


Pick on someone your own size!

by Grania



Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: A bit of swearing, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 21:58:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/715552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grania/pseuds/Grania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the prompt on lj: http://makinghugospin.livejournal.com/11823.html?thread=3805487#t3805487<br/>But I added a small part in the beginning because I wanted to get rid of my headcanon-relationship between the girls.</p><p>___________________</p><p>So, in conclusion, their lives should have never entangled, and all three of them would have probably been happier without knowing of the others’ existence, but unfortunately they all loved boys from the same group, and their lives did entangle and somehow they made the best of it.</p><p>Eponine could not remember when it had started, but one day Musichetta declared their weekly meeting with cupcakes and macchiato to be a tradition and forbade both Cosette and her to ever miss one unless they were on their deathbed. Cosette of course agreed immediately and Eponine sighed, though only outwards, because it was her only fix date in her week, and it should have been sad but it was not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pick on someone your own size!

Sometimes Eponine tried to reconstruct the beginnings of her strange friendship with Cosette and Musichetta, but failed every time.  
Of course she remembered her first encounter with either of them.  
She had not cared one bit about the new waitress that had served them in their private room at the Musain, but soon started to despise her when she changed the dynamics in the group, hooked up with Joly and Bossuet and, with only one flick of her long lashes, had her pushed to the side.  
Cosette she had hated from the very beginning, before she even knew her name, before even Marius knew her name, and she had not talked one word to her when he had her brought to the Musain for the first time.

Musichetta and Cosette immediately came along great, of course. They thought they were so different from each other, Musichetta with her doctor parents, who was never afraid and tried everything, and sweet little Cosette, raised by a single father and a batch of nuns, who blushed at everything and liked pink, but Eponine knew better. Just because they would have never talked with each other on the school ground did not mean that they were so different from each other. They were the same, because they were not like Eponine.  
Eponine sometimes tried to pin down what made her different from Musichetta and Cosette, but never dared to think too long about it.  
Maybe it was because their fears were different from Eponine’s, Cosette feared bad grades and big dogs, Musichetta feared a defective hair straightener and to be rejected from her favourite university, both feared to disappoint their parents.  
Or maybe it was because their certainties were different from Eponine’s, Cosette was certain that she would become a kindergarten teacher and live with Marius forever, Musichetta was certain that cherry red was the best lipstick colour in the whole world and that Joly could be healed from his hypochondria, both were certain, so terribly certain, that they were safe.  
They treated the world kindly, because the world had always treated them kindly, and because they loved the world, the world continued to love them, and it was a circle that made Eponine want to vomit and then destroy something, because she was shut out and could not find a way in.

To be fair she had not cared to get to know them better at first. She had liked to purposely misinterpret and shock them.  
Like the time when Cosette had groaned about her professor and said she would never return to his class ever, and Eponine had asked her why she would not just do it, and Cosette had looked at her with shock and disbelief, because of course she never seriously meant it, she did not understand that someone could oppose an authority until said authority gave you up and let you in peace, and she had blushed and awkwardly changed the subject when Eponine had told her when she had last seen a school from the inside.  
Or the time before Musichetta’s strange three-way-relationship, when she had complained about a terrible boyfriend and Eponine had offered her the pocket knife with the illegal elastic spring, and Musichetta’s eyes had widened with something like fear and disgust as she had tried to explain that he was not that kind of terrible, but that he had favoured an evening with his friends to a night with her, and then she had become quiet and somber when Eponine had continued to tell her how some of her boyfriends had treated her and what she had done to them.  
Eponine admitted that it was not through her effort that they built something that resembled friendship, but the determination of Cosette and Musichetta, who always tried to chat with her, even after countless cringe-worthy experiences, and who always tried to include her.  
She needed a long time, almost a year, until she finally looked at the two of them as equals, and even longer to understand that they were not as stupid as she thought.  
She realised, over time, that Musichetta pitied her and the life she lead, and she also realised that Cosette knew how much she was in love with Marius and that her awkward behaviour was just her trying to ease Eponine’s pain.  
So, in conclusion, their lives should have never entangled, and all three of them would have probably been happier without knowing of the others’ existence, but unfortunately they all loved boys from the same group, and their lives did entangle and somehow they made the best of it.

Eponine could not remember when it had started, but one day Musichetta declared their weekly meeting with cupcakes and macchiato to be a tradition and forbade both Cosette and her to ever miss one unless they were on their deathbed.  
Cosette of course agreed immediately and Eponine sighed, though only outwards, because it was her only fix date in her week, and it should have been sad but it was not.  
Thus they met every Thursday in the late afternoon at the Musain, and Musichetta ordered a round of Latte Macchiatos and Cosette opened the box with the six cupcakes from the expensive bakery next to her old school, and Eponine sat down in her preferred corner and did not contribute anything.  
She had long ago lost the shame of accepting free stuff, but Musichetta and Cosette somehow could not enjoy Eponine’s goods, officially because they did not want her to waste any money on them, unofficially because they feared that she did not spend any money anyway and used her five-finger-discount.  
They then spent the next two hours chatting, eating the disgustingly sweet pastry and drinking the disgustingly sweet excuse of a coffee, and Eponine usually needed three glasses of water, the only thing that was free in the Musain, to down all that sugar, and she always felt very twitchy during the following meeting of the friends.  
They chatted, mostly about Cosette’s and Musichetta’s lives and things Cosette and Musichetta liked, books Eponine did not know, films she had not seen, beauty products she did not use, but her favourite subject was when they discussed the boys.

It was a Thursday in the middle of autumn when they came together as usual. It was a friendly afternoon and they had only sat down and barely started to nibble on their first cakes when Enjolras and Combeferre burst into the room.  
Normally they would have arrived fifteen minutes before the beginning of the meeting, but they did neither give an excuse why they arrived that much earlier nor asked them for permission, and simply sat down at the table at the other end of the room and started to discuss their next protest march. Just as they had reluctantly turned back to their discussion, Grantaire came in, because of course he would never be too far away from Enjolras, and he planted himself on the last free chair at their table.  
Cosette seemed vexed, and Eponine was half inclined to chase them all away, but Musichetta had a faint smirk on her face as she observed the two revolutionaries who were so deeply immersed in their dreams, and because Grantaire was still sober enough to be quiet they let them stay.

“There’s a guy in my lectures who looks almost exactly like Enjolras”, she suddenly said.

Enjolras did not reveal whether he had heard her.

“Really?”, Cosette asked.

“Yeah, but he’s a jerk. The one in the lectures, I mean. He tried a...hm...kind of a line on me.”

Eponine frowned. “During lectures?”

“Yeah. It was so embarrassing, and the teacher heard it and stopped the lecture and I just wanted to die...”

“Wait, you did a line too?”

Now they were both frowning and Cosette had to help them. “I don’t think you’re talking about the same thing...”

“Pick-up line?”, Musichetta asked, “You know, the awkward sentences that should make a woman fall for you?”

Eponine’s face brightened. “Aaah...yeah, we definitely talked about different things. Carry on!”

“Which one did he use?”, Cosette asked eagerly.

Musichetta groaned and rolled her pretty, carefully painted eyes. “The lamest one in the book: Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

The three girls groaned together while Grantaire looked very amused.  
“He compared you to Satan?”

“It’s a bad one”, Eponine said, “but I think there are worse...”

Musichetta sensed the potential fun and smiled wickedly. “Definitely. Like...listen!”  
She turned in her chair and looked over to Enjolras and Combeferre.

“Polar Bear!”, she shouted and the two boys flinched and looked over questioningly.

“What?”, Combeferre asked.

“Nothing. I just wanted to break the ice.”

They looked at Musichetta for two seconds, then went back to their work without another word.  
At the girls table, Cosette started to giggle and Eponine pushed her cup away and shoved her second cake to Grantaire, as if she had accepted a challenge.  
Grantaire devoured the cake in two bites.

“Combeferre”, she spoke up. Combeferre looked up, evidently not pleased with the new interruption.

“What?”

She signed him to come over with a wink of her index finger. “Can I ask you something?”

“I can hear you just fine.”

She kept waving. “No, please, it’s kinda important. Please, Ferre.”

Combeferre sighed, but of course he walked over to their table. “What?”, he asked again and leant down to her.

Eponine grinned and put her hand around his neck. She spoke softly and could not be heard across the room. “I made you come with one finger. Imagine what I could do with one hand.”

Combeferre jumped up as if he had been hit, looking flustered and shocked.  
Cosette let out a little shriek and clapped her hands to her mouth, Musichetta and Grantaire erupted in laughter.

“What?”, Enjolras asked from the other table, glaring at them judgingly.

“Stop that!”, Combeferre ordered, cheeks glowing in bright red. The laughter followed him back to his table where Enjolras looked positively confused.

“You’re very good”, Musichetta complimented Eponine. She shrugged and smiled.

“But now it’s my turn again: Enjolras, I lost my virginity. Can I borrow yours?”

Now even Grantaire’s mouth fell open and only Eponine cheered when Enjolras jerked up again and a faint blush appeared on his cheeks.

“What...”, he tried, but Eponine interrupted him.

“Seriously Enjolras, what’s a nice boy like you doing in a dirty mind like mine?”

Before their fearless leader had grasped the meaning, Musichetta took up the ball again. “Are you a parking ticket? Because you got ‘fine’ written all over you.”

Cosette giggled hysterically and her face turned the same shade as her sweater.

“And you better have a driver’s licence”, Eponine added, “because you’re driving me crazy.”

They broke down with laughter and finally Enjolras had enough time to interrupt them.  
“What are you doing?”, he asked in his sternest leader-voice, but the faint red on his cheeks and his flustered twitches showed that he was out of his depths.

“Trying out pick-up lines”, Musichetta explained. “Does it work?”

“No!”, he almost yelled. “Stop that immediately! We’re trying to work here.”

“But we’re having so much fun”, Eponine pouted and clapped Grantaire on the shoulder.

Enjolras rolled his eyes and turned his chair so he was sitting with his back to them.

“You must be a broom, because you swept me off my feet.”  
That was Cosette, and Musichetta reached over the table to pat her hand.

“You’re sweet”, she laughed. “But try it a notch dirtier, will you?”

Cosette shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know how.”

Eponine laughed. “That’s so you! Then listen closely and learn from the pros. How about you, Grantaire?”

He shrugged too, still sober enough to want to avoid Enjolras’ disdain, but then he looked over and saw that he had already earned it.  
“I don’t think I can live up to you guys”, he said with a sly grin and looked across the room again. “Are you tired, Enjolras? Because you’ve been running through my head all day.”

“Too tame”, Eponine said, and Enjolras seemed to agree, because his shoulders unclenched and he shook his head.

“Let me give you some input”, she said. “Combeferre, let’s play house. You’d be the door and I’d slam you.”

Combeferre sank down until his face was completely hidden behind Enjolras and his chin probably touched the table.

Musichetta cleared her throat as if she was on a stage. “I called my flute Enjolras, so I can blow him every day.”

Cosette shriek-giggled again and Grantaire snorted.

Eponine continued: “You’re like a car accident, Enji! I just can’t look away!”

“If I had a garden, I’d put my two lips and your two lips together”, Musichetta punned.

“Seriously?”, Cosette asked, “That’s better than mine?”

“She’s right”, Eponine said and Musichetta sighed.

“How about: Combeferre, darling, you remind me of my toe: I’m going to bang you against a table tonight.”

Cosette clapped.

“Enji, my love, we both know I’m going to follow you home tonight, so why don’t you just come along peacefully?”, Eponine continued.

And Musichetta again: “Is there a magnet in your pants? Because I’m attracted to your buns of steel.”

“I miss my teddy bear. Would you sleep with me?”

“Ferre, my prince, please give me an Australian kiss. It’s like a French kiss, only down under.”

“Do you like dragons, boys? Because I’ll be dragon my pussy all over your face tonight.”

Grantaire and Cosette howled, Enjolras jumped up so fast his chair toppled over and fell, whirling around and eyeing them with his most furious look, and even Combeferre looked flustered and angry.  
Enjolras stared at them for a moment, shaking with rage, then he started to pick up his things from the table.  
“I can’t work like...”

“What’s going on?”  
Courfeyrac stood in the door, trying not to get infected by the laughter from across the room as he stared to his two friends. “Sorry I’m late, guys.”

“No problem. We’re leaving anyway”, Enjolras said curtly. “Somewhere where we won’t be disturbed by these childish, rude...”

“Don’t break my heart, Enji!”, Eponine yelled.

Musichetta turned her chair to have a better look at them. “We were complimenting them”, she explained to Courfeyrac.

“They’re harassing us”, Enjolras snarled.

“We were just discussing bad pick-up lines”, Cosette said with her sweetest smile and Courfeyrac understood and finally broke down laughing.

“Come on!”, he exclaimed. “Pick on someone your own size, girls! You know they can’t defend themselves.” He threw his bag on the table next to Combeferre.

Musichetta crossed her arms and cocked her head. “Then hit us!”

Courfeyrac raised his eyebrows, as if to ask her whether she was sure, but began nonetheless: “I lost my underwear. Can I have yours?”

“We already had that with virginity”, Eponine yawned. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

He grinned and leant on the table. “You must be a pirate, because I’m digging your chest.”

“Better”, Musichetta said, “but still too clean.”

“I wished you were a pony carousel, so I could ride you for a quarter”, Eponine said and Courfeyrac’s mouth fell open.

“You want to go in that direction?”, he asked breathlessly and laughed.

“They’ve only gone in that direction”, Combeferre grumbled.

“Well then, buckle up, ladies!” He took a deep breath. “Are you from Ireland? Because my dick’s Dublin!”

The girls cheered.

“My dick’s a gentleman. It stands up so you can sit down.”

Eponine hooted and Cosette blushed again.

“If I flip a coin, what are the chances of me getting head?”

Musichetta stomped her feet.

“Your face reminds me of a wrench! Every time I see you my nuts tighten up.”

Cosette shrieked and buried her face in her hands. Enjolras raised his hand and tried to interrupt him, but not one tone left his throat.

“That’s what I meant. Go on!”, Eponine yelled.

Courfeyrac laughed again and continued: “Fuck me if I’m wrong, but haven’t we met before? I’d like to use your thighs as earmuffs. Just remember: To you, I’m a virgin. That clothes look great on you, but so would I. I know a great way to burn off the calories of the cakes you just ate.”

Musichetta cried and threw her half-eaten cupcake at him. “You ass!”

Courfeyrac bent down and the cupcake fell right at Combeferre’s chest.  
It was him who finally jumped between them and raised his hands.  
“Shut up!”, he shouted over the hubbub. His ears were cherry red. “Shut up shut up shut up!”

“See?”, Eponine said accusingly to Courfeyrac. “Now you broke Ferre.”

“Nobody broke anybody, I just want to work in peace!”, he yelled. “Why would you even use such lines? They’re sexist and pathetic and...” He broke off and stared at them.

“But we don’t like them”, Musichetta said with a gentle smile. “Didn’t you listen? We’d never go home with somebody who talks like this.”

“Yeah, they’re the stupidest thing ever”, Cosette added. “But we just like to play with you.”

“That too”, Musichetta admitted.

He sighed and looked very tired. “If you could just be quiet.” He went back to his chair, put the cupcake away and bent over his laptop again, but Courfeyrac had not stirred.

“They’re not all bad”, he said after a while.

This time, Musichetta was the one to frown. “Seriously? Are you kidding?”

“Not at all. I think guys use that rubbish because if you go talk to a girl you make yourself vulnerable and you have to play tough. Most are just too scared to be honest and open, like the real experts.” He pointed a finger to himself.

“Do you want to suggest that there’s a whole philosophy behind your whoring?”, Enjolras asked with a crooked grin, but the table at the other end of the room fell silent.

“You would be amazed, my bachelor friend”, Courfeyrac smirked, and turned back to the girls.

Eponine snorted. “Just because you’re not in control doesn’t mean the other is...”

“Preaching to the choir.”

“...and I think guys who use them are generally pricks.”

“I think it’s not the phrase, it’s how you say it”, Cosette chipped in. “I think...if you can feel that he really interested in you and that he’s just too afraid to function, you can excuse pretty much every pick-up line.”

Courfeyrac laughed. “Oh God, don’t tell me he pontmercy’d your first meeting?”

She laughed too and blushed again. “He compared my eyes to the stormy sea.”

Eponine banged her head on the table and Courfeyrac groaned. “Why are you with him?”

Cosette laughed, shrugged, and remained silent.

“It’s quite sweet...in a roundabout way”, Musichetta mused. “But in that case they’re not pick-up lines anymore, they’re compliments.”

“Now you’re getting into semantics?”, Enjolras exclaimed. “I wished you’d show that much dedication to our cause.”

Musichetta poked her tongue out. “What does it feel like to be the most beautiful person in the room?”, she asked and Enjolras rolled his eyes.

“A bit too cliched to be a compliment”, Eponine argued.

“You’re like a dictionary: You add meaning to my life.”

They all turned to Grantaire.

“I’m so going to use that for the girl in the bookshop across the park!”, Courfeyrac cheered and pulled out his phone to take a note.

“That’s...romantic”, Cosette said half-questioningly and with amazement.

Grantaire did not acknowledge her, instead he stared down his empty bottle, then he started to softly bang it on the table in front of Musichetta. “Romance? Don’t get me started on romance. It’s dead.”

“Don’t tell that Prouvaire”, Combeferre smiled.

“It’s true. Romance, love, whatever you want to call it, it’s just fear in a nice dress. You think you feel love but actually you’re just afraid to be alone and you desperately cling to the first two-legged mammal that doesn’t reject you and you hope that it’d fill the void. Are you going to bring me another or do I have to break it?” The last sentence was aimed at Musichetta and he intensified the banging.

“Not working now”, she answered and smiled knowingly.

Grantaire sighed and stood up. “Lousy service”, he grumbled and trotted out of the room.

“Could you please help us now?”, Enjolras asked Courfeyrac, who was still furiously typing on his phone. “We’ve already lost enough time.” He glared over to the girls.

“Well, you came here and interrupted our tradition!”, Eponine exclaimed.

“We don’t like that”, Musichetta added and the three of them continued to giggle and chat around the table until one hour later the other friends arrived for the weekly meeting.


End file.
